You will not. Then, Metem, do you plead for your friend. Bid the
Baaltis look forth at one hour before noon and see the sight of yonder
wretch's death, remembering that to-morrow this fate shall be her
lover's unless she foregoes her purpose of self-murder and gives herself
to me. Nay, no words! an escort shall lead you through the lower city
to the gateway of the tomb and there listen to your speech. See that
it does not fail you, merchant, unless you also seek to hang in yonder
cage. Tell the lady Elissa that to-morrow at sunrise I will come in
person for her answer. If she yields, then the prince and his companions
shall be set free and with you, Metem, to guide them, be mounted
on swift camels to carry them unharmed to their retinue beyond the
mountains. But if she will not yield, then--Baal shall take his
sacrifice. Begone."

So, having no choice, Metem bowed and went, leaving the caged Aziel upon
the edge of the cliff, and the Hebrew soldier hanging from the spur of
rock.

Now Aziel roused himself from the horror in which his soul was sunk, and
strove to comfort his doomed comrade, praying with him to Heaven.

Slowly as they prayed, the hours drew on till at length, upon the
opposite cliff, he saw men whom he knew to be Metem and his escort,
approach the mouth of the tomb, and faintly heard him call through the
bars of the gateway. Turning himself in his cage, Aziel glanced at the
rope, and watched the spot of light born from the burning glass of the
crystal creep to its side.

Now the fatal moment was at hand, and Aziel saw a little wreath of smoke
rise in the still air and bade his wretched servant close his eyes. Then
came the end. Suddenly the taut rope, eaten through by the sun's fire,
flew back and the cage with the soldier in it vanished from his sight,
while, from far below, rose the sound of a heavy fall, and from the tomb
of Baaltis rang the echo of a woman's shriek.

CHAPTER XVII

"THERE IS HOPE"

It was dawn. Ithobal the king stood without the gates of the tomb of
Baaltis, the grey light glimmering faintly on his harness, and knocked
upon the brazen bars with the handle of his sword.

"Who troubles me now?" said a voice within.

"Lady, it is I, Ithobal, who, as I promised by Metem the Phoenician, am
come to learn your will as to the fate of my prisoner, the Prince Aziel.
Already he hangs above the gulf, and within one short hour, if you so
decree it, he will fall and be dashed to pieces.